Convergence
by Pseudoauthor23
Summary: AU. The lives of six people, two related, the rest unrelated, converge. They have to determine if them meeting is for the best or for the worst.
1. Chapter 1- The Pretend Professor

**Convergence  
Characters: **All, as deemed fit, but will be [P. Briggs and Charlie D.] mostly and [Mike. W and Paige A]  
 **Synopsis:** AU. The lives of six people, two related, the rest unrelated, converge. They have to determine, if them meeting is for the best or for the worst.

 **A/N:** This plot utilizes hyperlink cinema, which involves interwoven stories. (Think the movie, _Crash 2004)_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Graceland, just own the plot.

 **Special Thanks to- Dixie Dewdrop's Graceland **for letting me bounce this idea off of you **. =)**

* * *

 **Chapter One- The Pretend Professor**

 **Monday,** **August 26, 2013  
5:00 AM  
** **Redwood Townhomes  
** **Los Angeles, CA**

An alarm clock buzzed erratically, signaling it was time to wake up.

Paul Briggs groaned, rolling over to turn the electronic device off. Through dreary eyes, he looked at the time. To press the snooze button or to not press the snooze button crossed his mind. He got off the bed and started a push-up routine. Up, down, up, down, his arms shoved against the carpet for another 18 reps. Finished, his toes dug into the carpet, his left side pivoted, and he used his lower body strength to get on his feet. He headed straight for the shower and turned the knob for hot water all the way. He allowed the steam to cloud around him and the bathroom.

Briggs, as he liked to be called, was an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. For the past decade, he's worked and gone undercover for over dozens of operations, but this one would be his last, a career ending high he believed. Starting today, he was a part-time, World Religions professor at Graceland University. His objective was to gain an 'in' into the Serrano Cartel, an infamously well known criminal organization led by Carlos Serrano. It's been discovered most of the cartel's drug trafficking occurs on the university's campus.

He exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist snugly, and stepped in front of the mirror. His reflection stared back at him. The two figures sighed longingly, as if clued in on a little secret. Working undercover, some stints lasting longer than the others, left him lonely. In this kind of work, it was best to remain secretive. He severed his familial ties to keep his family out of harm's way, friendships were scarce, albeit federal colleagues, and don't get him started on romantic endeavors. He's had one stable girlfriend in his lifetime, Lisa. She broke up with him after he couldn't, for professional reasons, take their relationship a step further.

One night stands fed his hunger for company but didn't satiate it.

He began to get ready. He edged his beard-goatee and brushed his teeth. Once done, he headed straight for his closet to pick out clothes, purchased recently thanks to a bureau stipend, which paid for his clothing, utilities, gas and rent. Speaking of his rent, he had to acknowledge the bureau for financing such a fancy place. His two bedroom, two bathroom, two story townhouse was in an affluent area, which he liked. He slipped his clothes on—a black, long sleeved dress shirt, tailored, beige pants and black dress shoes. He went back to the mirror to check himself out.

He's been a junkie, former shot caller for the Czech Mafia, cattle raiser, son of a puppy mill owner, even a flamboyant fashion designer, but never a college professor.

Luckily for him, assuming this identity would be easy. He possessed a vast knowledge for the bountiful religions in the world.

He headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. He came to realize his refrigerator and pantry shelves were bare. The life of a bachelor, he supposed. 90% of the time he ate takeout, and the other 10% he cooked ramen noodles or one minute rice in 55 seconds. He grabbed his messenger bag filled with his class syllabi and government issued laptop and left.

In his white sedan, he adjusted his mirrors. He looked at himself in one of the mirrors, wondering if he could do this. Could he really be a college professor? Usually, he was laid back, zen, not at all the stern , he was disorganized. He relinquished his nerves and started the car. He backed out of his parking spot and was in search for a place to grab a bite to eat.

He didn't want the typical fast food joint; he wanted a place locally owned and operated.

Before coming here, he resided in Fargo, North Dakota, a stark contrast to where he was now. On the other hand, he was still trying to assimilate to living on the west coast. The congested traffic irked him, and the ample amount of pollution flared allergies he didn't know he had, but there were various activities and places to go and eat at, so it wasn't bad entirely. Still, he couldn't wait to retire, return home to the dirty south where he was born and raised, and settle down, meet a woman, get married and start a family.

He felt the world continued, while he remained dormant, as if continuously held back several grades and never graduating high school.

He continued driving. In the distance, he saw the purple, blue and orange ribbons blossoming across the sky the sun beginning to rise from it's siesta. It was this picturesque sight that often caught his attention. One day, he'd find the location where he could watch and admire the sun rise in it's entirety, and, hopefully, with a companion. He would have his 'one day' some day.

A sign on the corner, _Badillo de Café,_ captured his attention now. He parked his car in the lot and examined the quaint place. He headed inside, the many scents, sweet, savory, hearty and fresh, mixed together beautifully. He walked to the register.

"Good morning, welcome to _Badillo de Café_ , my name is Johnny, what can I get for you," a man of Latino descent greeted him. He had a notepad and pen in hand.

Briggs perused the menu. "I'll take two breakfast empanadas with chorizo and a large coffee especial," he ordered.

The cashier jotted this down. "Do you want you want sweetener, cream or both?"

"No, as is should be fine."

"Alright," the cashier told him his total. He received a crisp $20 bill. He rung him up and gave him his change. He, then, went to fetch his order.

Briggs pocketed his money and watched him carefully, wondering if he attended school too. He received his food in a timely matter. "Hey, excuse me," he apologized because he didn't mean to bother him, "do you know where Graceland University is?"

"Yeah, um," he took his time to think of the fastest way, "it's quicker if you take the 101 northbound, exit Cesar Chavez Avenue, make a left, go down three miles then make a right, the campus is right there," he instructed. "Do you go to school there?"

"No," Briggs chuckled, a little flattered for some reason. "I'm a professor. I start today actually."

"Oh cool. I go there. What class are you teaching?"

"World Religions."

"Took that last semester... the teacher was smoking hot," he whistled. "I'm guessing they hired you, after she left."

This wasn't the first time he heard the teacher he was replacing was a looker. That made him kind of curious. "Do you know why she left," Briggs asked, thinking she could be involved with the cartel he was investigating.

"No, but she was engaged," he remembered. "Maybe, she wanted to be a housewife, or her soon to be husband told her to quit. If I was him, I'd be self conscious too. The dudes on campus always flirt with the teachers, treating them like cougars and shi..." He smiled cheekily, all of a sudden, when one of his bosses came out from the back.

"¡Buenos días!"

"¡Buenos días, Juan!"

"Juan," Briggs repeated the name in a questioning tone.

"Sí, that's what I call him," the boss answered, facing the customer. She was a striking woman with fair, smooth complexion, brown hair streaked with blonde, doe, hazel eyes and a thin body. Her lips twirled into a soft smile. "My name is Kelly, and I own this place with my husband. I've never seen you before, and I know _all_ of my customers."

"Oh, I just moved here. My name is Paul." He placed his piping hot coffee on the counter and shook her hand. "This is a great place you got here." He looked around. It made him feel like he took a trip to the south of the border, and the staff was friendly.

"Garacías, hope to see more of you." She bowed her head towards him, a gesture of thanks. She returned to her employee and spoke to him privately.

Briggs watched them, then looked at his watch. "Well, I should get going. It's nice meeting both of you." They waved goodbye to him, as he grabbed his cup of coffee. He turned and almost had an accident with pretty blonde involved. "Oh, I am sorry," he made sure he didn't spill anything on her or on the floor.

"It's no problem," she dismissed the apology. "I should have been looking where I was going, but the intoxicating smells," she giggled, "made that kind of hard."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Briggs agreed.

"You have a nice day," the blonde wished and headed to the counter.

He unlocked his car and entered. His first class was about an hour and half away, but but he wanted to do a little recon on the campus. Not to mention, since today was the first day of fall semester, there was bound to be a ton of traffic.

* * *

 **8:01 AM**  
 **Graceland University**  
 **Los Angeles, CA**

His car inched into the parking spot, close to the cement parking barrier.

His empanada was lukewarm now, but he ravenously bit into it. An orgasmic feeling ruptured inside his mouth, the perfect amount of seasoning packing a punch. To wash down the food, he took a sip of the special coffee. This was one of a kind. He tasted the spices, nutmeg and cinnamon. _Badillo de Café_ was going to become a staple during his time in California. Three more gigantic bites later, he finished one. The second he would save for lunch. He guzzled his coffee next. He wiped around his mouth, double checking to see if he was clean. He was good to go. He stepped out of his vehicle, grabbed his messenger bag, and walked.

Along the way, he encountered other staff members. He said his hellos, only introducing himself if they asked his name. He entered the main office's double doors and strode to the faculty mailboxes. He went to find the slot with his name, which made this particular job even more real. He read the top paper, which entailed his schedule as follows: Monday-Wednesdays 9:00 AM to 10:30 AM, 11:00 AM to 12:30 PM, 2:00 PM to 3:30 PM; Tuesdays-Thursdays 1:00 PM to 2:30 PM, 3:00 PM to 4:30 PM and 6:00 PM to 7:30 PM. There several other papers waiting for his retrieval, so he grabbed them. He was about to leave but was stopped.

"Paul Briggs," the university's director greeted with an abundance of enthusiasm.

 _It's way too early for this shit,_ Paul mused to himself. "Director Warren," Briggs shook hands with him.

"Are you ready for today?"

"Yeah, I should be fine," Briggs replied with confidence.

"I hope so," he paused for a moment. "You know, with your credentials, you could've taught anywhere. Why here at Graceland? We're not as big as the other colleges in the area."

"Just needed a change," Briggs' answer was vague but concise. He taught himself that. The less people knew of him, the less they were to suspect him of his ulterior motives.

There was one time he was almost compromised.

He had placed himself in _that_ precarious situation, and he was mere seconds from death. He utilized his linguistic talents, where he talked out of his ass. To this day, he could still feel the metal pressed against his forehead's temple. He reminisced about the unpleasant reminder. Deeper the barrel ground to the point he believed his skin was going to become embedded in his skull. The attempted murderer screamed, hollered, berated him to open up, spill the truth about his three month presence.

He didn't.

Strike!

The pistol whipped his face, blood drew, a bone shattered somewhere. His hair was tugged, squeezed, a lump, the size of a rock, jammed and shut his throat. His pores opened, perspiration oozed, his shirt became drenched around the collar, his chest, back.

 _ **Click**_ **.**

"Paul," Director Warren had been saying his name for the past minute. "Paul," he placed his hand on the man's back.

Startled, Briggs jumped. "What?" He snapped out of his thoughts from his past.

His superior scrutinized him. "Are you okay? You look pale... and is that sweat," he queried, concerned. He took a step back, then, laughed it off. "Is it first day jitters? It's okay to be scared."

Briggs feigned a chuckle, agreeing. "Yeah, it must be." He rubbed the back of his neck for relief. "I should, um..." he saw a figure approach them. The man was the spitting image of the director. He assumed they were related.

"Dad, you wanted to see me," the man asked, already sounding annoyed. "It's so early!"

"Yeah, I do," Director Warren admonished. He, too, thought it was too early to have an ireful spat, but with his renegade son anything was possible, and, boy, did they have a lot to talk about. "Mike, I want you to meet the new World Religions teacher, Paul Briggs." He pushed his son forward, whispering in his ear. "Paul Briggs, this is my son, Mike."

Briggs sized him up. The director's son appeared to be All American Boy, dirty blonde hair, green eyed, fairly attractive, but with his attire haphazardly put together, he was the All American Boy with a rebellious streak. He held his hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Mike."

"Mr. Briggs," he addressed him, shaking his hand. They stopped. "Dad, why do I need to be here? Donnie said I had to, or you were going to take away my car."

The federal agent eavesdropped.

"Director Warren," one the many secretaries called upon him. "You have a phone call on line two."

"I'll take it in my office." He looked at his son. "Mike, why don't you take Paul on a tour and usher him to the social sciences wing," he ordered him.

"If it's okay," Briggs tried to get out of it. He didn't need an escort necessarily.

"Dad," Mike complained.

"No, you do this," his dad demanded sternly, not backing down, and left the two to be.

Briggs stared at Mike, and Mike did the same. It was an awkward exchange to say the least.

"Come on," Mike conceded to his dad's wish.

Briggs tagged along, though reluctant. They exited the main office.

"World religions, huh," the younger man made small talk. He kicked a random rock. "Replacing Professor Layla Sarkissian?" The name rolled off his tongue with a lust filled glint in his eye.

"Of course, you know her," Briggs stated not questioned. From the sound of his voice, he knew her intimately. "Is it true? She was hot?"

"Oh yeah," Mike answered with a hint of arrogance. "You would have liked her." He bobbed his head, winking.

"Wasn't she engaged?"

"Still not married," Mike pointed out, snickering after the fact.

Briggs found that insulting. He came to a dark conclusion about Professor Sarkissian's departure. It wasn't on her own volition. She just couldn't have her cake and eat it too, and daddy's money worked it's magic.

"Alright, here is the student union. Students come here to study, get something to eat. The kitchen was just remodeled to include a _Starbucks._ " Mike led the way down further. "Right here is the child development center. There's a fully functional daycare, great for the students who are also parents and faculty who have young children." They cut through the back. "This is the football and soccer field. This is also for track and field. Just around the corner, there's the gym and dance studio. Down below and to the right, there's auto and welding."

"How many students go here would you say?"

"Close to 15,000... it sounds like a lot, but it's not. Easily, UCLA and USC have over 40,000, and that's per school... dad likes this size. He thinks it's pretty decent, easy to manage. To expand, it would cost millions, possibly a billion, and it does take time."

"Yeah, it sounds like it."

Mike traversed to a different area; Briggs tailed. "This is the math building, down that way is the Language Arts, and that huge building right there is for science. For three years, that place was under construction, but it's paid off." He strolled a few more feet. "And, if you go this way, there's business, art,photography, and here it is the social sciences building. I'll take you to the room." He escorted Briggs, ascending the stairs and making a right to room 212. "This is yours."

Briggs thanked him, supposing this Mike kid knew this room too well. With the keys given to him upon his hire, he unlocked the door and entered. The room was a bit bare, but that was okay. He rested his bag on the long, office desk. He looked to see Mike was still there, gawking thoughtfully.

"Does this classroom bring back memories for you?"

"Why would you think that," Mike countered.

"You know why," Briggs state cryptically. He resumed settling. "Thanks for the tour by the way."

"Oh it was my pleasure," Mike responded with sarcasm. "If you smoke, because you look like one, there's marked places where you can do that." He left after.

"Your're a jackass," muttered Briggs irritably, hoping that was the only time they crossed paths. He was highly doubtful he could stomach a second time around him.

It was another half an hour before his first class started, so Briggs took his laptop and class attendance sheets out. He turned his laptop on, signed in and double clicked a specific program. Making sure he was alone, he had to survey the area twice, he was good. Some of the conversations he's had so far played back smoothly, which meant the transmitter, his watch, was working just fine.

When students started to arrive, he secured his laptop. The big hand ticked to the 12, and the small hand ticked to the 9. Already, the classroom looked filled. Briggs took a deep breath and acted like he's done this plenty of times.

"Good morning, I hope everyone is where they're supposed to be." He situated himself behind the classroom podium. He saw some of the female students were beginning to twirl their hair, which made him confused. "For clarification, this is the 9:00 to 10:30 AM, Monday, Wednesday, World Religions-101 with Professor Paul Briggs, or P. Briggs, in room 212. Please recheck your schedule to make sure you are in the right place. If you find a discrepancy, then you are in the wrong class and might have to rethink attending college."

Two people, one in the front and another in the back, exited their chairs, their cheeks red with embarrassment and ran out of there.

He was just trying to make a joke, break the ice.

"If I butcher your name, I apologize ahead of time. If you go by a different name, possibly, a nickname, then just let me know." He started from the top. Aarons... Abelman... Adams... Adelman... He recited four more students with the last name beginning with 'A', then began the last names with the letter 'B', then 'C'. He got to the 'D', and there was only two. He called the first. "Catherine DeMarco?" He waited, his eyes roaming to see if she was present. "Catherine DeMarco?"

He was about to mark her absent, but a young woman with long, chestnut, wavy hair, dressed in a jean jacket, a white fitted, t-shirt underneath, skinny jeans and flats, breathlessly entered. She bit her lip, knowing she was late. She sat in one of the two chairs available, right in front of her professor.

"Catherine DeMarco," he presumed, making eye contact with her.

"It's Charlie," she corrected, returning his eye contact.

Some students chortled at her manly nickname, and Briggs couldn't help but roll his eyes at the immaturity displayed. "You're late, Charlie."

She pursed her lips together. "Excuse me," she rose her hand. He nodded she could speak. "Are we in high school?"

The class collectively ooh'ed at her defiance.

"No, we're in college," Briggs shot back. "What's your point." He sounded combative.

"Right, we're in college," she asserted, "If you haven't realized, and I'm sure you haven't because you get to park in the faculty parking lot, where there's hardly any traffic, it's a mad house out there right now. It's too early in the morning, and it's the first day of fall classes. Parking is a bitch, women have feminine issues, and this class happens to be on the opposite side of where I had to park my car. Now, I assume you're new because when I thought about taking this class, the male students spoke of the finest piece of ass to walk this Earth was teaching it, but all I see is the new guy getting his feet wet."

"Oh snap," yelped a student obnoxiously, causing others to laugh.

Briggs was taken aback by her verbal jab. Within two minutes of meeting, it was like she had a vendetta against him, and he wasn't fond of that at all. He was going to nip that in the butt right as soon as possible. "Charlie, is it," he announced her name with a hint of malice. "See me after class."

"Whatever," she leaned back in her chair but agreed nonetheless.

Briggs continued with the roll call. He was beginning to regret choosing this assignment, if he was going to encounter students like her.

Almost two hours later and after the somewhat event filled talk with his insubordinate student, Paul plopped down on his leather, desk chair. His elbows rested on the top of the table, and his chin rested on his hands. He sighed heavily. His energy was already spent, and he was sure her's was too.

Yet, he found himself drawn to her. She was a dark soul, a dark soul he couldn't wait to meet with again, which was horrible of him to say.

Ten minutes later, his cell phone began to vibrate. He grabbed his phone and looked at the caller ID. His eyes bugged out of his sockets. He answered immediately.

"DJ!"

 _"What it do, Briggs,"_ his adopted brother laughed at him.

Dale Jakes, nicknamed DJ by him, was his adopted brother, who was younger than him by two years. They were close like a fat kid and cake. Paul never treated DJ like he was adopted, he treated him like his own blood. It seemed like he had a profound influence on him, since DJ worked for ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement. They kept in contact as much as they could, but with their careers and many aliases, it was hard. To hear from him now, he was ecstatic. It was like a little taste of home.

"Man, where are you?" The last time they spoke, his brother was in Atlanta.

 _"Well, if you must know, I'm in Cali now."_

"What, really?! We need to meet up!"

 _"Yeah, and I'm actually where you are... Look, we need to talk,"_ he sounded serious.

"Wait, you're where I'm at? You're at Graceland University right now?"

 _"Yup, and I would've stayed in Atlanta with all the damn bird dealers, if I had known my life was going to flash before my eyes... bitches in Cali are too fucking hood."_

Briggs chuckled; Jakes didn't have the greatest luck with women. "Well, my next class is coming up, and I have a feeling what we have to talk about is going to take awhile. We'll have lunch at 12:30-12:45? Can you hold out until then?"

 _"Yeah, I'll just head back to my car and sleep. I've been driving for the past 24 hours."_

"Alright, bro, I'll talk to you then."

Briggs was beginning to think his day was going to get better.

* * *

 **Next Chapter- Johnny Tuturro, The Exemplary Employee**


	2. Chapter 2- The Exemplary Employee

**Chapter Two- The Exemplary Employee**

* * *

 **Monday, August 26, 2013  
03:13 AM  
Ashton Apartments  
Alhambra, CA**

His internal alarm clock forced him to wake up.

Jonathan 'Joe' Johnny Tuturro leaped off the top bunk, mindful of the two resting on the lower half, in need of his morning pick me up.

He scrounged his mama's purse and found her cigarettes. He took one and escaped to his balcony that's seen better days. He grasped the lighter resting on the dusty table and lit the stick. He inhaled, the 6,000 chemicals entered his lungs, tarring them, but his body became ignited. He exhaled, then inhaled again. As the paper burned into ashes, he watched the obsidian sky, not one cloud in sight, no hint that the morning was coming any time soon. His weekdays were like this, up way too early, in bed way too late. He flicked the remnants, then continued until just the filter remained.

He reentered the small two bedroom, one bathroom apartment he shared with his mama, abuelo, abuela and little sister, and headed back to the bathroom. He needed to get rid of the carcinogenic smell and become squeaky clean for the day. He turned the shower on, then stepped in when it was warm enough. While cleaning his lanky body, he thought about everything he needed to do today. First, work at _Badillo de Café_ , second, get over to the university to begin fall semester, and third, start the new job he acquired recently. To be honest, he wanted to shout loudly, _¡_ _Hasta la vista, sue_ _ñ_ _o!._ He wasn't going to get any, any time soon. Done, he wiped himself off, secured his lower half with a towel, then returned to the bedroom.

He attempted to be as quiet as a mouse and invisible as a ghost. He didn't want to wake his mom and sister. He gently slid hangers, picking out a clean, company shirt, and a pair of dark pants. He maneuvered in the dark room the best he could. He felt around for the dresser, opened a drawer. His eyes bugged out, he extracted one of his mama's bras, not a pair of boxers. He groaned inaudibly. He returned the article of clothing, went to a different drawer and grabbed an underwear and an under tee. Deciding it was best, he dressed in the living room.

He put his clothes on quickly, since his ride to work would be coming soon. His backpack was packed, his shoes were finally slipped on, and he rechecked to see if he had everything. He didn't. His phone still was in the room. He went to get it, but heard footsteps pattering.

His tired 8 year old sister, Lily, short for Liliana, her dark tresses a complete mess and her nightgown barely on her shoulders, held his phone and phone charger in her hands. "Johnny, don't forget these," she reminded him around a yawn.

"Lily, what are you doing up," he asked, crouching in front of her. His hands planted on her hips softly. "It's too early for you to be up."

"I couldn't sleep... you kept moving around too much," she told him, as she rubbed her eye with her free hand to get them steady.

He adored his little sister and treated her like his own. She was his motivation; she deserved the world if he could give it to her. He kissed her cheek and took the items from her hand. "Gracias, but you should head to bed, so you can be rested for school."

She looked at him sadly. "What if I get teased again?"

He shook his head. "If they do, you let me know, and I'll handle it," he promised her. "I doubt they'll say anything to you for the rest of the week and the weeks to come. Remember those new outfits and shoes I got you?"

Her eyes and face brightened, nodding. When he presented the hip shirts, colorful jeans and leggings, a pair of sneakers and flats, she modeled the clothes. Her brother, who was her father figure, told her she was the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and that made her feel good about herself. She launched her tiny body in his arms, almost knocking him to the ground. If she hadn't told him already, that was her thanks.

He chuckled softly and brought her closer to him. He embraced her tighter. His phone rang, so he released her. He answered. "iHola!"

"Yo soy de la planta baja."

His ride was here.

"Voy a estar abajo en una pequeña."

"Sí."

He got on his two feet and hugged her once more. "Be a good girl, I probably won't see you until tonight."

She frowned. She didn't like that. "Can you bring home some of the panaderias?"

"You got it! Now, go back to bed." He watched her head back, and he grabbed his stuff and zoomed out of there. He entered the car that was waiting for him.

"Buenos días," one of his bosses greeted him.

"Good morning, Señor Badillo."

"Just call me Juan, you know that."

"It sounds repetitive," he admitted, "since, your wife calls me Juan."

"Don't mind Kelly," he flipped his blinker to make a right turn. "She's always wanted a son, but after Maia, the doctors told her she couldn't bare another child," he rambled.

Johnny listened for the first five minutes, then tuned him out.

He thought about his life. He was a son, a brother, a grandson, a college student, a cashier and baker, and starting tonight another title would be added. He was only 20 years old too.

His mother had him when she was 14, and she took on the both roles. He's never met his dad. All he knew about him was he was older with a family of his own, and his mom was 'the side chick'. His grandparents that lives with them helped as much as they could, but they got sick and had to stop working. His mom became the sole provider, but without a high school education, she did menial jobs to make ends meet. She wasn't home often, which made him sad. When his mother found out she was pregnant with Lily, and she chose to keep her because she's always wanted a little girl, knowing damn well her father didn't want to be involved, there was more financial strain.

He remembered the times they relocated to crime ridden neighborhoods, where the gang activity even had the cops scared, the days when there was no power and even had to go without water. They struggled. He tried to help by recycling cans, walking dogs and washing cars. He also reminisced about the incessant teasing from his peers about his hand-me-down clothes, the fact he stunk because he couldn't take a shower for a couple of days, and they claimed his mother was a whore.

Kids were so cruel.

As soon as he began high school, that's when things for him and his family started to get a little better. His mother got a job as a hotel housekeeper, and his grandparents went on disability. They moved to a better neighborhood too. School wise, he excelled and formed friendships with peers that didn't judge him, and, at the age of 17, was hired at the cafe he still worked at. He graduated with high honors and was granted a full ride scholarship to Graceland University, which made his mother cry tears of joy.

On the other hand, some months were rougher than the others, and he was in dire need of a car. With his work hours shortening because of school, he needed to compensate with an additional job.

"She looks at you as a son, you know," Juan revealed.

"Yeah, I know, and I thank you both for giving me a chance."

"You're welcome; we'd be a fool not to hire you. You're the best employee we have," his boss confessed.

"Really?"

"Yes; that's why we are willing to work around your course schedule and pick you up early in the morning, so you can make it to work... we see a lot of potential in you." He parked the car outside of the shoppe. "Whenever you get your business degree, I'll make you a partner. I promise you that, and I always keep my promises."

"I know, Juan," Johnny smiled. "Thanks again."

* * *

 **7:17 AM  
Badillo de Café  
Los Angeles, CA**

For the past few minutes, Johnny had been talking to a racially ambiguous customer he's never seen before. He looked at the man with interest, since, in his opinion, the guy seemed hella chill. If he hadn't already taken World Religions, an elective he enjoyed last semester thanks to a mighty fine woman, then he would taken it with him. The customer asked about Professor Sarkissian leaving the university.

Johnny didn't think anything of it. He heard the ding, placed an oven mitt on and grabbed the tray. He answered the question, while placing the panaderias in the display cases. "No, but she was engaged. Maybe, she wanted to be a housewife, or her soon to be husband told her to quit. If I was him, I'd be self conscious too. The dudes on campus always flirt with the teachers, treating them like cougars and shi..." He smiled cheekily all of a sudden, when Kelly, Juan's wife and other boss, came out from the back. "¡Buenos días," he said his hello.

"¡Buenos días, Juan!"

And, there she went reciting the Hispanic version of his name, which made him cringe sometimes. Just like Professor Sarkissian, who he nicknamed the Armenian Sweetheart, Señora Badillo was a looker. He could never see her as a mother-figure because he's fantasized about having sex with her in the back office. Guilt pangs hit his body because he respected her husband.

As she spoke to the guy, his name was Paul, Johnny finished his task. He placed the empty tray and tongs back in their appropriate spots and took the mitt off. He glanced at the clock. His first class started at 11:00 AM, which meant he needed to be out of there by 9:30, 10 at the latest, in order to catch the bus that will take him to school on time.

"Juan," Kelly needed to speak with him. He gave her his undivided attention. "Go ahead and take off at 9:30."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah; I know how the bus system is," she replied with the best intentions for him. She was about to step away, but thought about it. "If you really need to, you can take my car."

That was a kind offer, but he declined. It was enough for them to work with his hectic school schedule, and they were also giving him morning rides, but allowing him to drive their cars was a little too charity-ish. He supposed it was his pride getting in the way, so he declined, opting for the bus, since he's spent money on a bus pass.

She nodded, already knowing he wouldn't take her offer.

Johnny and Kelly heard Paul say his goodbye. The two waved at him. In the second, their mouths contorted at the possibility of an accident. When the coast was clear, no one harmed or a mess made, they exhaled a breath they didn't know they were holding in. His boss patted his back, then left to handle office matters.

"Good morning, welcome to _Badillo de Cafe_ , my name is Johnny, what can I get for..." his voice trailed, after looking at the female patron. His jaw almost became unhinged. "Hell-o," he deepened his voice and sounded a bit flirtatious. She was tall, long blonde hair, haunting green eyes, and her body was curvy fit. An ethereal glow encompassed her too, and he only thought goddesses owned that feature. Though he dated Latinas mostly, he was beginning to think it may be time to branch out.

She giggled. "Good morning to you too, Johnny." Looking at the menu, she nibbled her bottom lip slightly. Her eyes, then, leveled with his. "How old are you?"

He wasn't sure how to take that. "I'm 20, why?" If she was older, he was into cougars, especially if they looked like her.

"You're cute," she complimented, "but, I'm a little older than you... and I just got out of a relationship."

Undeterred, he tried again. "Do you need a shoulder to cry on? If you do, then I'm your man."

She shook her head once more. "You're cute, like really you are, but I'm not into dating right now." He accepted that, and she placed her order afterward.

A couple of hours later, it was almost time for Johnny to go. He purchased some of his sister's favorite sweets. He gave the brown box emblazoned with the company logo to Kelly, asking her to keep it until he could pick it up in the afternoon, and she agreed. He, then, dressed into a different shirt, spritzed on some cologne and clocked out officially. With his backpack securely on his back, he walked the one block to the nearest bus stop and began to wait.

The screeching of tires with a grand pop suddenly shifted his attention. His head craned to see where the sounds were coming from. He saw a woman step out of her lopsided car. A parade filled with Spanish words spewed from her mouth, as she checked the damage. It was obvious one of her car's tires popped. The city bus arrived, parking on the curb, and he had to make a decision.

Either get on that bus or help the woman that needed assistance.

When it was clear, he crossed the street, heading her way. He wouldn't feel right to leave her hanging. No one else seemed to care, since they continued with their lives. He could always take Kelly's offer anyway.

"¡Carlito, hijo de puta! I could _KILL_ you right now! Wait until Papa hears about this," she shouted into her cell phone, seething. "Fuck you!" She hung up her phone. Frustrated out of her mind, she kicked a perfectly good tire with her heeled boot. She hobbled at the impact. She twisted her body to see someone had been watching her. "What do you want? You think this is funny or something?!"

He released a small snicker, thinking her tough-girl act was cute and an act. "No, I'm sorry." He gestured towards her white, Infiniti G37 coupe. "Um, I can put the spare on for you."

"And what do you expect in return," she spit an imaginary tack his way. She quirked a brow, expecting an answer.

"A thank you," he replied slightly taken aback. To be honest, he was surprised by her. Dressed in a loose sweater, black leggings and heeled boots with her hair and makeup done, he didn't think she was iron clad, but she was, and that was alluring. The girl from earlier was gorgeous, but the girl in front of him was 'wifey material'. "So can I?"

With a glare, she crossed her arms heatedly and her tongue clicked the roof of her mouth. She thought about using the pepper spray she carried around, but didn't. "Fine." She unlocked her car's trunk, permitting him to help. For a little, she watched him, then returned to her business.

Johnny scavenged her trunk for tools first, but he didn't find any. Come to think of it, he couldn't pinpoint a spare either. He patiently waited to update her, but she was busy tapping on her phone. He looked at the time. "Shit..."

She heard him. "What's wrong?" He told her the issues that have arisen, including his."That pendejo," she growled. She placed an important phone call. A minute later, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Wait until I FUCKING tell Charlie! That asshole will get his," she swore.

He let her release her pent up frustration and found her to be a little. Not wanting to be a burden to her and remain in one piece, he bid her adieu. He had to get going, but he heard her call for him. He furrowed his brows and faced her again. "Yeah?"

"Where you going," she asked him.

"Um, I need to catch the bus to head to school."

"Where do you go," she queried curiously.

"Graceland University," he replied. "You got there too?"

"Do you need a ride?"

He didn't know what to think of her. One minute, she was swearing like a sailor and assumed he was a creep, trying to get in her pants. The next minute, she sounded interested in him and offered him a ride. Somewhat apprehensive, he ended up taking the offer.

A GMC Denali stopped in front of them, a few minutes later. She beckoned for him to enter, but he rushed for one of the back doors, so he could open it for her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," she stated and hopped in.

He sat in the back with her.

"¿Quién este?" The driver interrogated.

Johnny was about to introduce himself, but she prevented him from doing so. "Él es mi amigo." He made eye contact with her, befuddled by her action. She shook her head, choosing not to explain. "¡Conducir ahora!"

He understood and spoke Spanish fluently.

Did she not think about that?

* * *

 **10:17 AM  
Graceland University  
Los Angeles, CA**

The whole ride, no one spoke, and the radio remained off.

Arriving on campus, he waited for her on the curb. Inquiries filled his mind. He wanted to ask them, but she pushed the air, begging for him to be out of hearing distance. He hesitated, but the driver's murderous glare made him do so. The SUV drove off, and she returned to him, his face glossing with confusion.

"Uh, isn't that your ride? What about your car with the flat," those were two of the questions he had in mind.

"Don't worry about it; it'll be taken care of," she responded, while mowing through the crowd of people with ease with determination in her steps.

Her mysteriousness, he wasn't sure if that was sexy or a bout of paranoia. She seemed to know this campus fairly well, but he's never seen her around.

"What's your name," he questioned, realizing he didn't know.

Like a typical female, her phone was her life line. Her fingers tickled the screen. "Guess," she challenged, her eyes on her phone not him.

He looked at her like she was crazy. "¿Que?" Now, he was starting to think she was immature, and, wildly enough, he wanted the bitch he first met.

She nodded her pretty little head, directing them to the quad near the social sciences building. "Habla español..." She stopped by a bench, where there was a smoking sign. She took out a metal case filled with her favorite kind of cancer sticks. "¿Quieres uno?"

Usually, he smoked one a day, but he couldn't resist her, so he obliged. He watched her sensually strike their cigarettes with the flame from her purple lighter. Arousal hit him like a two ton truck suddenly. He took his and began to smoke with her. "Suenas sorprendido."

"A little," she exhaled. "I'm Lucia." She held her hand out for him.

He shook hands with her. "Just Lucia," he asked.

Again, she nodded. "Just Lucia... what about you?" Her lips turned upward into a smile.

It was the prettiest smile he's ever seen too. "Me llamo Johnny."

"Just Johnny," she asked with a bit of charm. "I like you; you're sweet and was willing to help even though you don't know me. That says a lot."

"Well, of course. Mama siempre decia que ayudar a una mujer en necesidad," he informed.

"Your mom's smart." She continued smoking and checking her phone. "Come on Charlie, where the hell are you..."

"Charlie's not the guy in the car," another one of his questions.

She laughed really hard like it was the funniest thing she heard in her life. "There she is," she announced. "Charlie!"

Johnny quickly found out Charlie was a woman. He watched her approach, and she barely came to his chest but exuded an intimidating quality. The women broke away from him. He tried to figure out their relationship. Maybe, best friends, cousins, lovers? He didn't know. He saw Charlie took what looked like car keys from her bag and handed them over to Lucia, and whatever Lucia told Charlie left a sour taste in her mouth.

Lucia walked back to him. "Thanks for trying to change my flat, even though you couldn't because of my brother's an asshole... we should hang out one day. Give me your phone number."

He told her his number readily, and she plugged it into her phone. She hugged him goodbye, and he hadn't realized it, but she smelled heavenly. His eyes stayed on her, as she left.

Then, an infuriated Charlie entered his eyesight. "My sister likes you," she revealed.

"Is that a bad thing," Johnny wondered earnestly because of her facial expression.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," she answered. "Just know, if you hurt her, I'll kill you." She walked off.

Johnny processed what she said and how she said it. She was so nonchalant, but it sounded like a threat. He strode in her direction. They were strangers, there was no need for animosity. If anything, she should be thanking him because he tried to help her sister. "Hey," he yelled, following her. "Hey," he repeated, but she ignored him. He stopped, when she did.

He saw a man and woman of African American descent.

"What about you, huh," Charlie snapped at the guy.

"What," he asked, and Johnny sympathized with him completely.

"Charlie," the woman called her name in an attempt to soothe her. "Dale's nice. We were just talking; he wanted to know where the social sciences' building was."

"Your name is Dale," Charlie asked him.

Johnny was being nosy and listened in.

"Dale Jakes, but I sometimes go by Jakes or DJ. My brother calls me DJ actually," he informed. "Who's this," he pointed at Johnny.

Johnny guessed it was a tactic to take the heat off of him, and he would've done the exact same thing. He didn't hate the guy for doing that. Nope, not at all.

"It doesn't matter who he is, but I'm telling you," Charlie stepped up to Jakes, "if you hurt Cassandra, and if you," she tossed daggers Johnny's way, "hurt Lucia, I'll chop both your dicks off with my hands and feed it to my canes."

"Charlie," Cassandra hissed, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry for my friend. It was nice to meet you Dale. Hopefully, we'll see each other around," she apologized on Charlie's behalf, then smiled at Dale. She dragged her friend away. "Have you eaten yet?"

The baker/college student became even more confused. The way she pronounced the last menacing word from her mouth sounded like 'KAH-nehs', which, he knew, in Italian meant dogs. He scratched his head. Was Lucia Italian then?

"Did she threaten you too," Dale questioned.

"Yeah, she did man," Johnny laughed, watching them disappear. He believed the coast was clear to speak to the man. "Nice to meet you Dale."

"What's your name kid," Dale shook hands with him. Johnny told him. "Well, Johnny, you look like a nice kid... you stay out of her warpath, and I'm sure you'll survive in the world." He gave some advice that wasn't half bad.

Johnny took it in stride. He looked at the time. "Well, I have to head that way. Nice to meet you." He ran off.

He couldn't help but think this was the oddest morning ever.

* * *

 **04:23 PM**

He was inside the student union, eating a burger meal and drinking an energy drink. He's been out of his business class for close to an hour. He smiled to himself, thinking back to class. Paige, the blonde customer from this morning, was one of his classmates. During an icebreaker game he found out she used to live in Korea. He apologized for coming on too strong, and she apologized to him for acting like a bitch.

There was one sane female in the world.

The two combative sisters hostile sisters crossed his mind too. He hoped Lucia was going to call or text him.

"Already studying?"

Johnny picked his head up. It was Paul. "Oh hey," he shook hands with him cordially.

"Just call me Briggs." He looked at the papers sprawled in front of him with curiosity. "Maps?"

"Something like that," he responded. "I start a new job tonight, and I'm thinking of the quickest way to get there." He grabbed his drink and chugged, swallowing. He elaborated further. "I think for my first night I need to call a cab." He sighed, concluding he didn't think about the transportation part all the way through. "I also have to return to my other job, pick up the food for my sister, drop that off at home, then head to West Covina."

"You don't have a car," Paul queried.

"No, I don't. I've been saving for one, but something always comes up," he didn't want to divulge too much.

"Need a ride?"

Johnny contorted his face at the offer. That sounded a bit dorky and uncool. He chuckled awkwardly. "No, that's too weird. You're a faculty member, I'm a student... isn't that like fraternization or something."

'You're not in any of my classes, so think of it like a friend helping a friend," he pointed out. "You're in a dilemma, I just thought you needed some help, and I was willing to give you some."

The college student gave in after pondering about it. There was no harm, and the commute time would be shorter. "And you don't mind taking me to my job and house?" Briggs shook his head, and that amazed Johnny. Cool points in his book.

The two guys exited the and headed to the faculty parking lot.

"So, where do you start tonight," Paul wondered.

Johnny hadn't told anyone about his new stint just yet. He didn't want anyone to think otherwise of him. Then again, it was just a job, a way to make money, and it was legal. " _Silver Sins_ ," he revealed.

Paul cocked his head.

"It's a strip club."

* * *

 **Next Chapter- Mike Warren, the Seceding Son**


	3. Chapter 3- The Seceding Son

**A/N:** Just a reminder, this story is AU. (The sibling relationships I've created may not be canon, but that's the beauty of AU.)

 **A/N #2:** The first six chapters deal with the main characters from 'Graceland', and it will take course over a day. You will start to see how their stories interweave.

 **A/N #3:** As always, read and review. =)

* * *

 **Chapter Three- The Seceding Son**

* * *

 **Monday, August 26, 2013  
06:23 AM  
Reece Residence  
Hollywood, CA**

Articles of clothing littered the bedroom, depressed they weren't of any use.

In a particular spot, a cell phone rang, begging to be answered. With the allotted rings finished, the call was forced to voicemail, but commenced ringing again and again. The person behind the string of phone calls was full of tenacity.

"Answer the phone," urged a feminine voice, sounding oddly pleasant despite the time.

"What if it's yours," Michael 'Mike' Warren mumbled, snuggling deeper with pillows instead of her.

She turned over, her blonde wavy locks brushed his skin, and she kissed his neck then biceps, willing to forget the damn phone in favor of another powerfully charged sex session, but the caller was persistent. "Just answer it," she said.

Aggravated because he wanted sleep, he got out of the queen sized bed to hunt for his phone. He tossed clothes in the air, to the side, pinpointing the noise's location finally. "Eureka! There you are, you son of a bitch," he muttered huskily near her vanity.

He returned to the bed, surprised the battery endured this long and looked at the calls. There were 10. His companion's arms slithered around his body, her round mounds pressed in between his shoulder blades, and she graced him with soft kisses. Trying his best to dodge them, he concentrated on his phone, discerning the amount his dad, mom and brother phoned.

This wasn't good.

Begrudgingly, he called the most recent caller, his brother.

" _Where the hell are you?"_

"Good morning to you too, Donnie," Mike responded acrimoniously, rolling his eyes.

Older by three years, Donnie, nicknamed Banks by his friends, was the opposite of Mike—great head on his shoulders, aspired to be a doctor, lived on his own, had a steady girlfriend, and their parents were actually proud of him. Though they were like night and day, the two were extremely close. If Mike needed help, he knew to turn to Donnie and vice versa.

" _Good morning to you too, dumbass,"_ Donnie shot back.

"Idiot."

" _Retard."_

"Asshole."

" _Jealous because I look better than you,"_ jibbed his big brother.

"I'm not the one that made the baby cry last summer," Mike reminded.

" _She had something in her eye,"_ Donnie contested.

"That's implausible because she was sleeping in my arms, you took her from me, then her eyes opened and..." He waited for a retaliation.

" _Fuck you."_

"Oh, I'm sorry, did your girlfriend not take care of that last night," the younger brother shot back, snickering. "Anyways, as much as I love joking around with you, do you have any clue what time it is? It's like 6 in the morning."

"6:30 to be exact, but dad's been calling my phone, bitching at me, trying to get a hold of you, and, well, I'm the good son."

"What the hell does dad want," Mike hissed. He stopped her abruptly with a dismissive hand slap, abandoned her and started to pace. What on Earth could his father want?! For Christ's sake, his dad, Graceland University's director and prominent figure in southern California, was _always_ concerned with scholastic matters than home matters.

The relationship he had with not just his dad, but mom too, was strained. There were plenty of reasons. First of all, he believed they ran their household like a dictatorship. Two, they constantly reminded him 'all that knowledge, and you don't apply yourself'. Three, their vehement demands he was more like Donnie. Four, their expectations for him were too high, much higher than possible. Five, and this was the big one, they ruined his chance at marriage.

For the reasons aforementioned above, he rebelled.

He defied their wishes, wasn't a college student, often stayed out late, sometimes, he didn't even bother coming home days at a time, he fucked multiple women, at separate times, same time, in orgies, it didn't matter, and, truthfully, Graceland's campus didn't only serve as his hunting ground for women, but it was also where a majority of _his_ criminal activity took place.

Yes, he was a 'Falcon' with the possibility of an advancement coming soon, which took his secession from his parents to an all time high.

Or was it low?

From his point of view, he was his own person, marched to the beat of his own drum, abode by a set of rules he created for himself and did not give a damn about what they, or any other person, had to say about or to him. So what? He was, technically, living recklessly. He enjoyed doing so because there was nothing on Earth to live for, and he was bound to die someday. Everyone in this world was bound to die someday.

That was a fact.

His sexual conquest for the past 48 hours, looked up at him."Is everything okay," she asked, genuinely concerned. She met him Saturday night, and the sexual attraction was explosive. They drank, snorted a few lines of coke, and they ended up having sex inside of her car outside the nightclub. Even if it was a tiny space, he did things to her she didn't know was humanly possible. She didn't want that to be their only time, so she invited him to spend the night at her house, which turned into two.

" _Dad said you need to see him at school asap, or he's going to take away your car asap... your choice,"_ informed the big brother.

His black on black BMW 650i convertible was his baby. "Over my fucking dead body is he going to take my car away from me," he announced, snubbing her inquiry as if she was a ghost.

She was that irrelevant.

" _Well, then I suggest your ass get to the university."_

"Fine," Mike grumbled, vexed. He started to grab his clothes. "Is he already at school?"

On the other hand, six hours of dental surgery sounded better.

" _Are you a dick?"_

"Touché," Mike concurred, as he strolled to the bathroom. He didn't care about the wrinkles, or how his clothes smelled, since all he needed to do was splash cologne. "Anything else?"

" _Yeah, actually there is,"_ Donnie replied. _"Lauren's sister just moved back from Korea, she's attending G.U., and we're having lunch together. I'm not taking a 'no' by the way."_

He entered, shutting the door rapidly. He didn't need any prying ears or encouraging words via the lady he's been banging. "Lauren has a sister?" Mike was surprised. For the most part, he got along with Lauren, Donnie's girlfriend for the past for two years. They were friendly enough, but weren't at each other's throats, and they joked around rudely and playfully. However, he didn't want to be around them, as in Lauren and Donnie, more than necessary, since the two were extremely affectionate.

 _"Yeah, if you ever went to her house, you would see pictures,"_ Donnie pointed out. _"We'll be eating on campus."_

He placed his clothes on, not caring how he looked, so he could irk his father and make him cringe. His plan was sinister, but necessary. Then, he heard the last part. "What?! Eat on campus," Mike sounded wigged out by the thought, "I don't want to be there any longer than I have to."

 _"Bye,"_ Donnie hung up the phone, cutting him off.

Annoyed, Mike thought about throwing his phone in the toilet by 'mistake'. Looking at the mirror, he straightened a piece of hair, freshened his teeth with the toothbrush he's been using here, gargled with the provided mouthwash and looked good to go. He'll worry about shaving when he got home. He opened the door to see her. "Amber," the name unfolded uneasily, and she was unclothed still.

"Hey handsome," she embraced him deeply. "You're leaving?"

"Uh, I gotta go," he updated, while feeling his body to sure he had his car keys, phone and wallet.

"Are you sure," she pouted, not wanting him to leave. There was more they could do.

"Yeah, family issues," he fabricated and walked out, not even waiting for her.

Amber slipped her robe on and followed him. He already descended down her steps; she didn't know what to think. His hand was on doorknob, ready to turn, so she had to ask. "Will we be seeing each other again," she wondered with desperation.

Mike's head ascended, not only did he see her hopeful gaze, but he saw the many opulent vases decorating a long table in the upstairs' hallway. Though she was cute, she was a whore. She threw herself at him, fucked him in a parking lot, and allowed him to do it raw because she didn't know what the fuck she was doing on thanks to the cocaine he supplied. If he wanted to be real with himself, he didn't think cocaine was needed to get in her pants. She offered willingly.

"No, don't think so," he denied her, smirking. He saw, came, literally and figuratively, and conquered. His work with her was done.

Amber saw red, realizing he used her for sex and a place to stay. She screeched at the top of her lungs, the pitch reverberating off the walls in her house and coming directly at him. She twisted to grasp a vase. With the item in her hand, holding the damn thing so tight her knuckles turned white, she turned back to him. She reared her arm back and was ready to launch.

Minutely petrified, Mike booked it. Just in time too. He heard the glass shatter against the door and jumped.

* * *

 **7:58 AM  
Graceland University  
Los Angeles, CA**

Entering the parking lot, he maneuvered his convertible, revving and weaving in and out of cars precariously. Campus security didn't dare to stop him because of his status; he was royalty here. He ended up parking his car in the red zone that was meant for emergency vehicles. He hopped out, pressing a button on his key to secure it, and headed for the main office.

"You can't park there, sir," a recently hired security guard reprimanded him, while grabbing his booklet to issue him a ticket.

Mike reversed his footsteps and approached the man. The man was unfamiliar, and he peered at the badge, Officer Moore. He was about to teach him a lesson."I believe I can," he stated arrogantly.

"No, you cannot," the officer reprimanded for the second time."I don't know who you think you are, but-"

"But what," Mike prodded for him to finish, not the least bit intimidated. "Officer Moore, do you know who my father is?"

"No, I don't see how that's relevant," Officer Moore disputed.

Any other employee cowered, but not this man, which surprised Mike. "Alright, Mr. Moore, this job, you can say buh-bye. I'll let my father know, and he'll handle you," he vowed, resuming his trek. Along the way, he hypothesized about the purpose of this particular talk. Was it going to be another 'you need to be more like Donnie', or, 'use your intelligence wisely', or, 'because of your affair I lost a lot money, so you listen to me!'

He sighed.

The beguiling Layla Sarkissian, soon to be Mrs. Toros Berbarian, was 28 years old, smart, and dare he admit the truth, the woman that could have put a stake to his womanizing ways. One year ago, at a gala to raise money for the local children's hospital, he met her. It was by accident, he was coming out the bathroom, she was going to the bathroom, and they bumped into each other. A baggie of his favorite recreational drug, he snorted and sold, dropped from his jacket's pocket, as a result. She bent down, her breasts spilling from her dress, which he caught a glimpse of, and seductively swept it in her hand. She, too, dabbled, and in their drug induced high, they consummated in the bathroom.

It didn't matter she was engaged, nor did it matter she was an employee at the college his dad essentially owned.

He fell hard. She made him feel loved, she adored him, and they had serious conversations. She wasn't like the other whores that used him like a toy, she treated him like he was real. He saw the spending the rest of their lives together. They kept their relationship a secret, especially from his parents and her fiancé, and they were doing a great job until the pregnancy scare. Although she wasn't pregnant, shit hit the fan, and like their secrets, their relationship became unraveled.

His dad and mom insisted he break up with her because if the scandal broke, everyone involved, their reputation would be ruined. He disobeyed because he was falling in love with her. He went to her place, demanded they run away together, but she ended things, so she could move on with Toros. Before leaving her, he asked if his dad had something to do with her decision, she nodded. That was the last time he laid eyes on her.

He found out his father paid her a hefty sum, $250,000, to leave, not just the college, but his life.

Reminiscing caused him to trudge towards his father, who was with a tall man. The tall man looked a little rough around the edges, but his duds were pretty nice. "Dad, you wanted to see me," Mike asked, annoyed. "It's so early!" He bitched and complained.

His father glared at him, which made his son feel an ounce of victory. "Mike, I want you to meet the new World Religions teacher, Paul Briggs," he pushed his shocked son forward, then whispered in his ear. "Do not embarrass me in front of new faculty members, do you hear me, or I will take away your car," he pulled back and faked a smile. "Paul Briggs, this is my son, Mike."

"Mr. Briggs," Mike addressed with a firm handshake. He met with his dad again, wondering, on a scale of 1-10, how serious his dad was. To add further insult, his dad ordered him to give the person, who's replacing Layla, a tour. He wanted to smack him across the face, consequences be damned. "Dad," he warned.

"No you do this," his paternal unit demanded sternly, not backing down and left to take a phone call.

He stared at Paul with clenched fists. "Come on," he gave in to his dad's wish. This was to kill time until his dad handled whoever needed to talk to him. He beckoned the teacher to follow. After exiting the doors and kicking a rock that wasn't in his way necessarily but something to do, Mr. Briggs asked about Layla. Mike had a far away look in his eyes that could be mistaken for a lustful glint, but it wasn't that at all. To this day, she crossed his mind, and he missed her. He explained to the 'new guy' she was not yet married.

Mike escorted him around, mostly doing the talking. Mr. Briggs asked questions, and they sounded relevant to his job, but were irrelevant to Mike's life. He answered just for the hell of it. Eventually, they arrived in front of room 212 in the social sciences building. When the playboy entered, he inhaled. The room smelled and appeared like any other cleared classroom, but that meant her feminine scent and touch was gone.

For good.

"Does this classroom bring back memories for you?"

The older man's inquiry interrupted his memory and impeded his private life. "Why would you think that?"

"You know why," the teacher replied, somewhat brashly. "Thanks for the tour by the way."

Mike caught the insinuation, and it rubbed him the wrong way. He was going to give him kind advice like sanitizing the chair and table, just in case, but opted not to, since the man wanted to be both an asshole and a jackass."Oh it was my pleasure. If you smoke, because you look like one, there's marked places where you can do that." And, he left, no longer wanting to be near the man.

He retraced the steps for his dad's office, beginning to think today wasn't his day. He never wanted to be here in the first place, Amber became a psychopath all of a sudden, though it wasn't a big shock because of his uncaring demeanor, he detested the flashbacks surrounding Layla, his dad practically pimped him out to give a man a tour, and he _still_ had to talk to his father. Not to mention, he had to meet with Donnie, Lauren and her sister.

Just then, he thought about making a run for it, but one of his faithful buyers stopped him, asking for an ounce.

"I don't have any on me right now," he replied. He needed to talk to his 'lieutenant' soon. "Whenever I get in touch with Car-" He stopped speaking, when two hands planted firmly on his shoulders. His dad thumbed for him to follow, and there was no way he could back out or make a sale.

It's not like he had the goods anyways.

Director Warren entered his large office, closing the door tightly after his son entered. He situated his posterior on his leather, desk chair and reclined. His right hand's fingers sprawled under and around his mouth pretentiously, studying his son. After several minutes of silence that made his son rather uncomfortable, he opened his mouth bluntly. "I'm sick of your shit."

Mike was slightly taken aback by his father's opening statement. "Well, it's not like you care," he fired back, ready to battle. "All you care about is this school, you always compare me to Donnie, and you are trying to plan my life!"

"Because you're doing such a great job planning yours," his father spewed.

"When's when's the last time I asked you for money? You may have bought my car, but it's _my_ car now! You can't and will not take it away from me!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," the older man ruled.

"I will," Mike snarled, not giving a damn. "You have no idea what you've done to me, do you?"

"What _I've_ done," Director Warren spat, infuriated. "What I've done?! Alright, Michael," and he hardly said his son's full name unless he was dead serious, "let's run down the list of things _you_ have done. Are you ready?" His son didn't say anything. He didn't even motion a gesture. "Driving drunk and crashed your car into our neighbor's garage, you _only_ have your GED, you make your mother cry every night, you have made yourself the family embarrassment, and I would not be surprised the cops raiding a student's car had to do with _you."_ He watched his son."Let's continue, Layla Sarkissian, does that ring a bell? A quarter of a million dollars to leave you alone."

Mike narrowed his eyes, an invisible knife wielded into his heart. Hadn't he thought about her enough? "I loved her," he confessed in a low voice.

"Love," his father repeated to spite his son. "You don't know what love is, even if it hit you in the face! All you care about is yourself, you have made a mockery of me, and you don't give a damn about the people around you. Until you change your ways, I want you out of my house, and I will only acknowledge Donnie as my son."

Mike kept his brave face, but inside, he was crying. His dad's never spoken to him like this before. He didn't know how to take it and grew small in his seat. He felt like a six year old child. "Dad," his voice trembled a bit.

"Save it, Michael," his dad wiped his eyes, exhausted. "I need to know... what you're involved in."

"Nothing," Mike answered to save his ass.

"I will give you one more chance. Tell me what you're involved in," his father demanded for the second time, this time more despairing.

He didn't know how much his dad knew about his extra-curricular activity, but he wasn't going to admit the truth. Not now, not when he was close to the financial stability he sought, since beginning his double life as a drug dealer. As of right now, he made a teacher's salary in one month, yet he spent his income on frivolous things not the necessities like a roof over his head and a car that wasn't in his father's name.

Besides, the less his father and family knew, the more likely they were to be safe.

"I'm not involved in anything, dad," Mike softened considerably, since starting this conversation.

"Give me your car keys," his father punished him even more.

"What, dad," his son protested, rattled by the request.

"You have let me no choice, Michael." His father extended his arm and waited. "Give me your keys."

"So this is how it's going to be," Mike asked, the betrayal from his father evident. He withdrew his keys from his pocket. He wasn't sure whether to get on his knees for a reprieve or punch him into submission, so he could get his stuff back.

"I know where your car is," Director Warren updated. His son had surpassed the chances given, and there's been more than enough. There was no coming back now. The last straw was from Officer Colby Moore speaking up about his son's threat.

The world Mike knew crumpled in seconds."So, that's it?" He hoped his dad would change his mind.

"Your mother will allow you to get your clothes." Director Warren had the best intentions for his son, really he did, but if his son wasn't going to see that, then it was best to kick him out and take his precious car away.

* * *

 **12:49 PM**

"Where are you?"

 _"I'm on campus, go to the student union."_

"Hurry, my phone's going to-"

He sighed heavily. His phone died for the third time. For the past three and a half hours, he wandered around campus, waiting for his brother to arrive or for his 'lieutenant' to phone. He couldn't sell drugs because he didn't have any on deck, and he didn't even feel like talking to females though they approached in truckloads. His dad's ruthless attitude was forcing him into a state of depression.

At least he found some entertainment in the form of a petite female cussing out two males, one taller, the other larger. That was for a little though.

Arriving at the student union, in the ocean of people, he located his brother. Relief washed over him. "Man, am I glad to see you!"

"Dad's pissed; what did you do," Donnie wondered, handing him an extra phone charger.

"Thanks, I really needed this," Mike acknowledged, beyond thankful his brother hadn't turned his back on him.

They went to a table and sat. Mike plugged the charger into an outlet, then placed the other part into his phone.

"So, where are they," Mike asked, turning his phone on.

"They'll be here," Donnie swore, texting his girlfriend. "Paige is hot, nice, cool, you'll like her."

Unappreciative to the fact his brother was trying to make matchmaker, his eyes did a swivel. "Doubtful. You've told me that many times, and they all end up looking like complete bow-wows."

"She's different," Donnie sounded persuasive. At his brother's face, he shook his head. "Okay, just because I'm on a diet, doesn't mean I can't look at the menu."

"That's corny," Mike quipped.

"But true... anyways, she'd be good for you. It'll get your mind off of..."

"Don't say it," Mike intervened, not wanting to hear it. "Why are we eating here again?! This is the last place I want to be."

Donnie signaled two people to come over.

Mike's head rose from his phone to see Lauren with an attractive blonde next to her. Not that Lauren wasn't pretty, but this woman with her was none like he's ever seen before.

Lauren kissed Donnie on the lips, then proceeded to sit on his lap, marking her territory for all to see. "Hey, Mike," she said her hello with a sly smirk. "This is my sister, Paige. Paige, this is Mike, Donnie's little brother."

Paige grinned and held out her hand for Mike. "Hello," she greeted. A few seconds later, she waved her hand in front of him.

For the first time, his sibling was right. She was stunning, and he was absolutely memorized by her. The way her hair glistened, the way her eyes sparkled, how she cutely held her purse, and the way her body looked, she was a ten. He cleared his throat, realizing he hadn't taken her hand that was incredibly soft. He blushed a little, which was something he hadn't done since Layla. "Paige, right?"

"Correct," she smiled, taking her chair. "This place is great."

"No, I love you more," Donnie claimed obnoxiously.

"No, I love you more," Lauren crooned, penguin kissing him.

Paige and Mike locked eyes, writhing in their seats, overtly disgusted with their siblings' love proclamations. They started to laugh, slightly bonding, but she stopped without warning. He looked at her, thinking something happened.

"Hey, are you okay," Mike questioned her.

"Uh, yeah," she nodded. "Sorry, I was looking at the Starbucks."

"Do you want something to drink," he asked.

"Are you offering to pay?"

"Of course," he got out of his chair to help her out of hers but noticed her staring at his barely put together outfit. He shoved his hands in front of him, embarrassed. He chuckled nervously, while taking his phone off the charger.

They, then, made their way over and stood in line.

Mike's phone went off, and he looked at the text.

 ** _"I'm picking you up in 15 minutes. Wait by the track and field._**  
 ** _C.S."_**

"Is everything okay," Paige, now, asked him.

"Oh, yeah, it is," he smiled, moving forward in line.

* * *

 **8:39 PM  
Silver Sins  
West Covina, CA**

Mike tailed the man he called lieutenant through a secret entrance to the strip club. He's been here plenty times, but never knew about this opening. He entered the room his lieutenant opened and came to realize this was where the illegal, illustrious and intricate drug operation occurred.

"Hello, Carlito," the women, who were bagging drugs and counting money, greeted in a sing-song voice.

"Hello, my ladies," he smoothly said, smacking the asses of some, kissing the lips of others. "Ladies, this is my amigo, Mike." All of the women waved at the guest. He gestured for Mike to follow him to another room, which looked like a business office. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure," Mike nodded, still processing everything. Tonight, he was to start his new rank as Carlito Serrano's right hand man. This was a major step. He would even get to sit in on an important meeting that was set to take place here. He took his drink, sipping the contents. "Who are you meeting with tonight?"

"Steve and John Lee, a father-son team from Seoul, Korea," Carlito updated, downing the liquor like it was water.

"Korea?"

"Yes, Korea, my dad's business is about to go global, and I need you by my side. Are you willing to? Even if it means, putting your life on the line for the Serrano family, most importantly, me?" Carlito inquired, pouring himself another glass.

Mike thought, but it wasn't for long. As of right now, he was homeless and with no car. If he complied with his Carlito's demands, that ensured an extensive payment. "I'm your man," he promised.

The two men clanked their drinks together.

* * *

 **Next Chapter- Charlie Demarco, the Private Princess**


	4. Chapter 4- The Private Princess

**Chapter Four- The Private Princess**

* * *

 **Monday, August 26, 2013  
6:43 AM  
Serrano Residence  
Calabasas, CA**

Bacon rendering fat infiltrated her room's barriers and caused her to rise.

Smiling, Catherine 'Charlie' DeMarco inhaled the heavenly smell, swearing she yearned for _that_ more than a man's attention. She grabbed her off the shoulder sweater from her vanity where famous names were housed—Mac, Chanel, Marc, Ralph, Anastasia, Giorgio and descended the steps. She entered the kitchen and found her stepfather, Carlos Serrano, whom she called Father.

She owed Father a lot. At age six, he married her mother and guaranteed them both a privileged life. Indeed, she was a princess. Father kept her in the finest clothes, presented her with the expensive makeup brands, gifted her with extravagant trips at the drop of a hat, and gave her a weekday and weekend car when she turned the appropriate age. He treated her like his biological children, Carlito, older than her by two years, and Lucia, younger than her by three years, and, for the most part, they were a tight knit family. She knew Father's criminal activity, the ins and outs, too. His net worth was estimated at $300 million, and she participated—behind the scenes _only._ When mother passed away because of injuries sustained in a massive car pile up on the 405 freeway, he didn't turn his back on her, send her to CPS or to live with family.

She was unsure if he found her to be an asset or because he sincerely cared for her.

That was a mystery.

Father's head rose from his tablet that stored _all_ the details to his operation. "Ah," his face and eyes lit like a Christmas tree upon her arrival, "good morning, Charlie. Come, sit, eat with me."

She came and kissed his cheek, her customary greeting. "Good morning, Father. Where's Ms. Irma?" She looked around to see where the kind maid had gone; the pan used to cook the bacon looked like it was just turned off.

"She's in the laundry room," he replied with a smile.

There was indeed a breakfast spread on the granite counter top: mushroom omelettes, hash browns, cooked to perfection bacon and pork sausage, and homemade biscuits with Ms. Irma's famous honey butter.

Charlie brewed coffee, grabbed an extra cup and orange juice from the fridge and sat with him at the kitchen island. She piled her plate with two omelettes, a heaping scoop of hash browns, three bacon strips, three pork sausage links and she slathered two biscuits with the honey butter, a meal fit for a queen to an outside eye but an appetizer for her. She ate with gusto.

"You eat so much... where do you put it," he joked, sipping his amaretto coffee. He looked at her and believed she was 115 pounds soaking wet.

Mid-bite, she gawked at him. If any other person said that to her, she would've have gave them a severe tongue lashing and hurled accusations. Not with Father, she took what he said as a compliment and formed a cheesy smile on her face strategically. "Just hungry."

He grabbed the cloth napkin resting by his plate and wiped around his mouth. "I need you to operate the club tonight," he appointed her rather than his children comprised with his DNA.

"Are you sure," she asked, gripping her fork for support. "What about Lucia or Carlito?"

"Lucia's too soft, and Carlito, I don't trust him if my life depended on it," he confessed.

"What," she yelped, not about the Carlito part because she held the same sentiment, but Lucia's skin was tough, and she had the smarts.

"Calmate," Carlos motioned for her to lower her voice. "She _is_ tough, but not as tough as you. I want you to be in charge, while I'm gone in Mexico because I trust and believe you have the ability to take matters into your own hands."

Charlie wanted to contest because the criminal lifestyle he's preset collided with the new path she was trying to form.

Not to mention, everything that's occurred in her life was taking a toll on her body.

Father's first wife, Carlito and Lucia's mother, passed away from pancreatic cancer, and a couple of years later he met her mom and fell madly in love. Her mother died when she was nine, and he was extremely heartbroken and made the decision to never marry again, a nice homage, but, and this was a big but, his attitude and demeanor towards the children, except for Charlie, changed drastically. He altered, many times under alcohol's influence, sampling his own products or just because, to a tyrant. He became methodical, diabolical, unmerciful and he conditioned the children to be the same way.

Emotionless exhibited control and strength.

Each time, in Father's stupor, Charlie hid in her bedroom, casting herself away. Even in the depths of her room, she overheard the traumatizing screams escaping her terrified step-siblings. When Father's voice reached an all time high and tauntingly bounced around her like it was real, she knew what came next—the corn kernels. Though she'd never be on the receiving end, which she never understood but was thankful for, she sympathized with them.

While praying for their torture to end, there would be a knock on her door.

She remembered this because it was tattooed in her brain.

Apprehensive, she walked to the door and see her father, drenched in sweat, his face consumed with remorse. She granted him entrance, he walked to her bed, his steps solemn and spent. He turned and slid. His straight and elongated body, for once, permitted to slump. She watched him carefully, unsure what to do. He'd gesture for her to come, and she obeyed.

 _'Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento,'_ he cried, his shoulders convulsed and he was soft like a furry, newborn kitten.

 _'Father, it's okay,'_ she promised, her voice small.

Wiping his tears, he stood and walked away, as if nothing had happened. Ten minutes, on the dot, later, she approached 'the room'. She opened the door, the hallway's lights the only illumination shone, and saw the two knelt on the serrated cruxes with their hands interlinked behind their heads, their stoic faces positioned towards the wall. Nothing escaped their lips, not a whimper, a dramatic inhale, a hiss, nothing. She admired their courage. She, then, helped them get to her room. In there, she played mother, talking to them soothingly, defending Father's actions, avowing everything was going to be okay. She also tended to their injuries, even though some kernels were unsalvageable because they were too anchored in their skin.

She was the mother, a role way beyond her years, not just to Carlito and Lucia, but to Father as well. To cope, she ate, her favorite, satisfying activity, but gained weight, to lose, she vomited, which eventually led to a vicious cycle, binge and purge. She's been engaged in the harmful activity for the past three years and no one around her knew.

No one.

"Charlie," Carlos's hand reached out to her's, a coffee cup rested in his free hand. "You, you can. I still don't understand why you need to go to school. School takes away from the family business."

He reminded her school started today; she almost forgot.

"Father, it's something I need to do for myself," she defended her choice. "I thought you were okay, since you paid for me to attend."

"I just want to see my princessa happy, are you?"

 _I'm dying_ , she admitted privately. "Yes, Father, I am," she lied instead.

"For me to be happy, I want you to handle the strip club for the two weeks I'm gone and have Lucia addition the new dancer," he allowed his other daughter to do that task.

"What about Carlito," she asked, caressing his hand back. After everything he's done for her, she was left with no choice but to comply with his taxing demand.

"Carlito is on thin ice with me," he revealed banefully, releasing her hand, "but, I'm giving him one more chance to make me see him in a different light. He has a meeting with the Lee family, hailing from Korea, tonight. If he secures this deal, then you'll be able to concentrate just on school." He looked at his watch. "Excuse me, I have to leave now." He gathered his belongings. "Charlie, aseguarse de que está protegido, por favor." He kissed her temple. "Tonight a new bouncer starts. I need you to show him the ropes."

Charlie agreed. She watched him meet with a driver, suitcases in his hand, and the two walked out the door. The coast was clear, so her eyes concentrated on the food. Father's additional pressure weighed on her shoulders, making her feel heavier than she already did. She packed more food onto her plate and demolished ravenously. She didn't stop, not even when her jaw surged with pain from the plentiful chews. She chugged her, now, chilled coffee and juice. Full, she exited her chair to head to the bathroom.

"I think I smell Irma's biscuits," Carlito, already attired for success, sang joyfully, coming down the intricately decorated staircase. He met his step-sister at the bottom. "Oh it's you," he sounded unimpressed with her appearance.

"Oh it's you," she mocked him with a glare. He huffed, remaining in place. "Get out my way, ahora!"

"Habla español repentinamente," he commented snidely, fixing the gilded cuff links on his dress shirt.

"Parlo Italiano troppo, qual é il punto," she challenged, growing impatient. If this food didn't get out of her system soon, it hit her stomach and thighs, and she'd really knock him out.

"Papa already told me. For the next two weeks, you're the boss, but I will tell you now, stay the fuck out of my way!"

The Charlie-Carlito kinship was odd. One minute, they were at the each other's throats, the next minute, they defended each other if someone was to threaten either of them. Carlito's was envious. It stemmed from how Charlie was treated. An additional factor to their duality was the close relationship she shared with Lucia. As much as Charlie tried to explain Father's actions to her stepbrother, although she didn't understand them either, he blamed her presence for being the reason why he was often punished in the first place.

"Straight but not narrow," she mocked him.

He knew what she meant. "You fucking bitch!"

Enraged, his arms sprung towards her, promising he was going to make her take back that comment. She countered swiftly by ducking and twisting her lithe body around. She struck his back with fury filled swipe, inflicting pain that radiated from his spine down. He screeched, his back muscles diverging. Before his arms could drop to the floor, she grabbed his wrists, further disabling him. Her knee punctured his back roughly in conjunction with pulling his arms to the point cracking noises were heard.

"Don't you dare try me, you asshole," she snapped. She digested food, three times the amount her stomach could hold, and sloshed around violently, causing her body to jerk. The telling liquid began to rise, and she hunched forward. She released him, her hands blanked her mouth in the next second.

Relieving his muscles, swearing she was a little bitch, he faced her. "What's wrong with you?" He, at first, didn't care, but when she became eerily quiet, his face became alarmed. He bent to her level. "Charlie?"

She smacked his hand and him away and ran up the stairs to her bathroom.

* * *

 **8:52 AM  
Graceland University  
Los Angeles, CA**

After the spat with Carlito, she vomited in her shower, which sounded gross, but she was in a time crunch. She hadn't calculated the distance from home to university in totality. After purging as much as she could, cleaning the shower and her body, she exited, blow dried her hair barely, applied enough makeup that made her look alive and dressed in a flash. She headed downstairs, saw the maid cooked more food, grabbed a bite and car keys to her silver Land Rover Range Rover, her weekend car, and drove. On the way, she bulldozed through her second breakfast, but during a little bout with traffic, she began to regret and even thought about pulling over to vomit but didn't.

Right now, she parked her car in section P, grabbed all she needed and ran to the bathroom in the social sciences wing. She checked, ensuring the place was vacant. She stepped in a stall and got on her knees. Because her body was trained she opened her mouth only. Biscuit chunks, bacon slivers, chewed sausage, mashed hash browns and yellowish bile expelled. Due to the force, she knew, her insides were most likely ripping, all the stomach acid ruining her esophagus lining, and her body tipping towards exhaustion, yet she continued. She'd deal with consequences later. She coughed several times before hacking again. Thought to be done, she stood, ready to flush, but she wasn't done. More, like a an operatic crescendo, was coming, she braced herself and spurted more into the toilet.

Without warning, a woman rapped on the stall's door. "Hello, everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," Charlie exhaled. She cleaned up the best she could and flushed. It took two times because the food clogged the toilet. She smoothed her clothes quickly and exited. The woman, a tall blonde with striking good looks, had inquired about her status. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure," she questioned for the second time, following her to the sinks.

Charlie started to wash her hands. "I am, uh," she needed to come up with a lie, a believable lie, "morning sickness," she blurted. Soon after, she regretted it.

"Oh," the woman responded. "How far along are you?"

"Uh, six weeks," Charlie laughed nervously. "I got class. Bye." She exited, blowing out a calming breath and headed to room 212. She was surprised to see a male teacher. Breathless, she took the closest seat, coincidentally right in front. He called her legal name. "It's Charlie," she corrected, uncaring to what the students thought about her nickname.

"You're late, Charlie."

She pursed her lips together, not liking he was making her tardiness any more obvious than necessary. "Excuse me," she rose her hand. "Are we in high school?"

"No, we're in college. What's your point," the teacher combated.

Deflecting her anger from Carlito towards him coupled with irritability, one of bulimia's after effects, she laid it on him pretty thick, bruising whatever ego he had.

"Charlie is it?" She nodded. "See me after class," he ordered.

"Whatever," was her response and she leaned in her chair.

He finished the roll call, then went over the syllabus, which Charlie guessed would take the rest of the class' duration to finish.

While bored, she watched him intently. She wasn't sure if it was the way his full lips flapped, or the way determination drowned his brown orbs, or the fact his nicely shaven beard-goatee was two toned, or the way he handled her shit talking effortlessly, or the sudden need for him to grab her and take her on his desk, the classroom be damned, that made her want to loathe him.

 _Did I really think that,_ she chided herself.

"Who's phone is that," Professor Briggs questioned, looking around.

"Shit," Charlie murmured, realizing it was her phone chiming boisterously. She saw it was her sister calling, but forwarded the call, since her teacher was practically breathing like a just woken out it's slumber dragon. She turned her phone to silent and ignored the look plastered across his face.

"Alright, now in this class, you are expected to..." the professor continued.

As he spoke, Charlie bemoaned the seat she chose, since she couldn't text instead. Not only that, but she wondered what the hell Lucia could want so early in the morning. She waited for the period to be over with, so she could at least send a message via the keyboard prior to her talk with him, but that was impossible. Once the class filed out, the teacher approached her desk and expected their conversation to start promptly.

She groaned, annoyed. Furthermore, she was craving sustenance all over again."What do you want?!" She narrowed her eyes a bit. "Do you want a sorry? Will that uncurl your panties that are in a twist? Will that get you off my back?"

If she allowed him to get a word in edgewise, he'd be more than happy to excuse her. Possibly, she was going through something. Since, she wanted to talk shit, he prolonged their meeting."I'm not on your back," he opposed.

"Are you sure," she retorted, crossing her arms, not even looking him in the eye.

He sat on the desk-chair to her left, tapped her table to get her attention and waited for her to face him. She did. "What I would like is for you to adjust your attitude, maybe, take it down a notch, or two or ten," he wisecracked.

"His never," she mumbled under her breath. She took a deep and calming breath. "Mr. Paul Briggs is it," Charlie began.

"Paul or Briggs," he interrupted, correcting her, but recanted soon after, realizing that was wrong and crossed an unspoken teacher-student boundary. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Briggs."

"Okay, Briggs," that name unfolded with the intention to spite him, but she thought about something. He was so free, casual, beyond casual, unlike other college professors. "This is your first teaching gig. Isn't it," she delved for some teacher. He started to chuckle nervously, which, to her, sounded like he was caught. She became a little more interested. "Is it?" Seeing that he wasn't going to give a simple yes or no answer, she pressed harder. She leaned towards him, her body sprawled across his desk. "If it is, your secret's safe with me."

At first, he was intrigued, a slight provocation, but this was wrong, way wrong, but it felt so right. He laid down the law readily. "Charlie," he exited the desk. "I don't want another incident like this again."

"This," she gestured with a hand between herself and him, "like you possibly liking me as more than a student?" She challenged. 'Oh God', she heard him mutter.

He shook his head profusely. "No, I mean, this morning. I don't want another incident like this morning, and please, silence your phone prior coming to class."

"Right," she played his game. "Is that it?" She waited, her fingernails tapping her desk methodically.

He cleared his throat. "Yes," he nodded, excusing her.

She abandoned her chair. Before departing, she looked at him again. "Can't wait for the next class, Briggs." She left, smiling. She extracted her phone from her purse to see Lucia texted her a long message about Carlito messing with her Infiniti, her car she drove during the weekdays. She headed to the nearest smoking section, where her sister was, to find out more.

"Charlie," Lucia called her, ecstatic.

Unlike Carlito, Lucia and her were close. If anyone were to tell them they weren't sisters, they'd look at them crazy. Lucia didn't remember much of her birth mom, and she adored Charlie's mother, who treated her like her own. After they both passed, Lucia admired Charlie as both a motherly and sisterly figure. She displayed more loyalty to her than her own brother.

Charlie saw Lucia wasn't alone. She was with some vato, a clean cut vato.

The two women broke away.

"So, what happened with my car, and why weren't you in yours," Charlie had to get this straight.

"I had to go to the mall to stock the dressing rooms," Lucia started, since that was her primary job at Silver Sins. She was the house mom; she helped put on their make up, chose what clothes they needed to where, helped them count their money and took the cut for the business. She did quite a bit, more than people gave her credit for. "But my car had no gas, so I saw your Infiniti was still there, so I drove it. It started making a noise, and the tire popped. I called Carlito, suspecting he had something to do with it an-"

"I don't need to hear anymore... he could have killed one of us," Charlie smoldered. It had to do with this morning, she supposed, and she'd deal with him later, possibly at the club. "Are you okay?" She examined her, making sure she wasn't hurt in any way.

Her sister nodded. "Don't worry, I had Reuben take the car to the shop," she informed.

Lucia was so precise. Charlie didn't understand why Father didn't see that. If he did, then Lucia would be in charge for the next two weeks, and she'd be left to concentrate on school, so she could get her nurse's degree. "So, who's the kid?"

"Oh, his name is Johnny, and he tried to help, but couldn't because Carlito took the spare and tools out."

"Pendejo," Charlie cursed. "Here," she grabbed her car keys because Lucia needed to get around some how. "My car's in section P towards the middle by a tall tree. Think you can find it?" Once more, Lucia bobbed her head. "You know, Father isn't going to like you dating."

"Yeah, but he seems different," Lucia vouched, taking an honest liking to Johnny. "Maybe, Papá will like him." She took her sister's keys and walked back over to Johnny.

Charlie watched the two interact. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for her sister or she dissuaded her from finding love. Father always said he needed to meet the man or woman, prior to his children dating. That's one reason she hasn't been in a relationship in years. She waved goodbye to Lucia and made eye contact with Johnny.

"My sister likes you," she revealed.

"Is that a big thing," he queried.

"I'm still trying to figure that out, "she replied. He, too, seemed smitten by her, but Father wouldn't like that, but knowing her sister, she'd find a way to date him. She warned Johnny. "Just know, if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

She walked away, bound to be late meeting her only friend in the world, Cassandra, if she continued to speak to him. There was an imperative matter on her mind, and that was how to deal with Carlito's bullshit. She heard Johnny's attempts to stop her, but kept on her way. She saw Cassandra with a guy she's never seen before and cursed internally.

Cassandra was a serial dater and had the worst taste in men. Already thinking this was bad, she had to know his intentions.

"What about you, huh," Charlie she interrogated.

"What," the man with dreads asked.

Cassandra walked up to her best friend, surmising she was agitated because she was hungry. "Dale's nice. We were just talking; he wanted to know where the social sciences building was."

"Your name's Dale," Charlie asked him. She scrutinized Dale's appearance. Though his dreads were longer than her hair, his beard was a little wild like he hadn't shaved in days, she found him to be Cassandra's type to the tee. Still, she didn't know the exact number, but she's cried many times on her shoulder. Before Dale got the approval to date Cassandra, she had to make one thing straight. Before Johnny could even speak to Father to get the okay to date Lucia, she had to reiterate what she told him . "If you hurt Cassandra, and if you," she twisted to see Johnny, "hurt Lucia, I'll chop both your dicks off with my hands and feed it to my canes."

Her friend hissed her name, most probably embarrassed. After saying goodbye, Cassandra asked the question that's been on her mind. "Have you eaten yet?"

It was no big deal, Cassandra didn't know about her battle with ED.

Charlie nodded she had, which was true; it just didn't stay in her system.

* * *

 **03:31 PM**

So far, she's fed her addiction, literally, five times today, which meant she's vomited five times. Most likely, she'd eat another three times, then throw up another three times. That's just how it went.

Charlie had been waiting outside the social sciences building for the last ten minutes. She wanted to apologize to Briggs for how she acted earlier. After thinking about it, she made a horrible first impression. She was being brash for no apparent reason. If she saw the other two guys, Johnny and Dale, she would also say sorry to them too. She saw Briggs coming out the classroom, so she met with him on 'accident'.

"Charlie," Briggs was a little surprised. He shifted his briefcase from one and to the other. "Are you a full time student?"

"Um, yeah, sort of," she stalled a bit. "Briggs," she pulled a stray tendril behind her ear, a couple hairs cascaded. She looked up at him.

He stared down at her. So late in the day, he noticed her makeup sweated off and saw there were mountainous gray bags beneath her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, um, I just want to say sorry for how I acted," she apologized sincerely, while toggling with her purse's strap.

"That's nice of you, and I accept your apology." A smile crept on his face, but her appearance made him concerned. There was a pause. "Walk with me," he gestured. She followed. "What are you still doing here?"

"Just waiting for my ride..." when he cocked his head, she gave an vague explanation. "It's a long story."

"Do, you... need one," he offered.

His big brown eyes foretold he was serious. As a nervous quirk, she bit her lip.

Before replying, her phone rang. She was thankful for the interruption, since she would have told him yes. That was fraternization at it's finest. "Hello," she answered, her eyes roaming.

 _"I'm in front of the library."_

Lucia ended up coming a half an hour earlie than said. If she was like Carlito, Charlie would have ripped into her verbally and physically, but she wasn't. Other than Cassandra, Lucia was the only female by her side.

"I'll be there in a little." She hung the phone up. "I'll take a rain check. I gotta head to work, see you next class." She turned to walk away, this little apology was showy.

"If you don't mind me asking," Briggs stopped her, extending his hand just enough to tenderly grasp her wrist. "Where do you work?"

She scoffed playfully, while a jolt ran rampantly beneath her skin. "Silver Sins," she replied.

"Where and what is that exactly?"

"If you want to see me later you'll find out," she stated cryptically and left. She strode away. Two thing crossed her mind, when out his way, she was horrible at flirting, and she knew she was in deep trouble.

Father would hate him.

* * *

 **6:55 PM  
Silver Sins  
** **West Covina, CA**

Sixth and seventh session done.

Her long hair whirled into flawless waves, her curves accentuated by a body hugging, black and white color-blocked dress, her feet decorated with stilettos, and her makeup applied heavier but perfectly, Charlie strode her Father's office to administer an interview for the potential dancer. After done here, she would speak to the new bouncer. She sat on her Father's chair and crossed her legs seductively. She gestured for Lucia, dressed similarly, to get the woman. She saw the folder marked with the woman's name nearby and opened it. Her jaw dropped.

"Charlie, here she is," Lucia informed, bringing applicant inside.

Charlie brought her head up. "Hello, Paige."

* * *

 **The Next Chapter- Paige Arkin, The Abnegating Appeal**


End file.
